


To Sense

by scifigeek14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Season/Series 09, cas in the bunker, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigeek14/pseuds/scifigeek14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas had wrongly assumed that with humanity came a dulling of the senses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Sense

Cas had wrongly assumed that with humanity came a dulling of the senses. That was what it had felt like the first time he had fallen, back before the apocalypse, before the leviathan and purgatory, before Metatron. But this time was different. It took a few days to realize that he was becoming accustomed to the way that human’s experienced before he really started to take note of it.

The first thing he felt was cold. Followed swiftly by the pain of a gnawing hunger in his stomach. But that was the time before Dean had found him and brought him home to the bunker.

It was then that he started to notice the little things.

He noted the way that different fabrics felt. He didn’t wear his trench coat anymore but it still hung in his closet, and he would run his fingers over the rough canvas and the starched collar of his dress shirt and wonder how he’d lived every day in the same clothes. He preferred softer clothes now. Cotton t-shirts, with references he didn’t understand, cotton blend jeans, zip up hoodies, sweaters, sweatshirts, and flannel pajama bottoms. Wool socks. He really liked wool socks.

He started touching everything he could get his hands on: soft, furry, scratchy, rough, fuzzy, smooth, prickly, hot, cold, wet, grainy. Dean and Sam noticed after a few days and, though they never talked about it, when either made a run to the store they’d bring him back something new to touch, a new fabric or yarn or a feather. Castiel appreciated their patience in the matter. Especially that time when Sam had let him touch his hair, much to Dean’s amusement.

Taste came almost simultaneous with touch. Both were things that couldn’t very well be avoided. Taste was the most drastic change between Angel and Human. As an Angel, he had been able to eat but had never really wanted to – barring that run-in with gluttony. Food and Drink before had just tasted like its constituent molecules. Now he understood Dean’s love of food. He devoured his meals for the first week, amazed that anything could be so _good,_ so fulfilling and satisfying, cause him so much joy. Eating quickly became one of his favorite things. Sam warned him not to over indulge or it could lead to health problems. “No Angel immunity to heart disease now,” he’d said kindly. But Dean had scoffed, telling Cas to enjoy himself. “Nothing wrong with indulging every now and then,” he had said with a wink and a promise to make Cas a homemade cherry pie.

It took him longer to notice things like smell. The first time he noticed it came when he recognized the smell of grilled cheese and then subsequently recognized that he had recognized it. Then he was sniffing everything around him. Dean and Sam stopped bringing him fabric and started bringing home candles and incense. Cas started a catalogue of his favorite smells: The lavender candle Sam had bought him, the pine fresh deodorant that Dean had picked up, the cinnamon body wash he used with his vanilla shampoo, the smell of his sweater fresh out of the laundry, the grass after the rain, the scent of the leather seats in the Impala.

His hearing technically _was_ dulled. He found he was more susceptible to being snuck up on and startled. In fact, it quickly became one of Kevin’s favorite pastimes. He liked to see how many times he could make the former Angel yelp or drop something. Sam thought it was funny. Cas didn’t. He sometimes missed the sound of his brothers and sisters speaking to him through ‘angel radio’. Those first few days when he was alone it had been made so much worse by the silence.

Music was different though. The first time he’d noticed it was when Dean popped in a cassette on the way back to the bunker, after they’d stopped for the first real meal Cas had eaten since falling. It was a Foreigner tape, but of course Cas hadn’t known this at the time. Cas had always known that Dean had a love of music, particularly a certain type of music, but he had never made note of it before. He had never stopped to listen and enjoy it. The guitar riffs, the harmonies, the meaningful lyrics, they all held interest to him now. After Sam showed him how to use the computer and to use “google”, he typed in “music”. The results weren’t fruitful and he had needed to go to Dean for help. Dean had smiled patiently and shown him how to use the iTunes to purchase music he could later put on his phone. “Just cause I prefer old school doesn’t mean I don’t understand this tech, no matter what Sam says,” he’d said good-naturedly. Cas had asked Dean to put all of his favorite music on his phone for him, since he needed to start somewhere and he trusted Dean’s taste. When Sam caught him listening to ACDC four days later he had called Dean a bad influence.

Even sight was different. He could no longer see for miles, but he was assured that this was normal and as long as he could see the faces of people across the room he wasn’t going blind. He was less convinced when found he needed to squint to read the words on the pages of a book. Sam let him borrow his extra reading glasses with the promise to get him an eye exam next chance they got. He found he appreciated looking at things more now. He found things like paintings and sunsets more enjoyable. They were something to experience rather than to take note of. He spent his evenings looking at art and photography on “Google Images” or watching television with Dean.

Dean had taken it upon himself to single handedly introduce Cas to “All the best of the movie industry.” To which Sam had snorted and mumbled “Cult classics, more like it,” but otherwise made no move to interrupt. Sometimes Sam even joined them on the couch or brought in popcorn. Cas found he enjoyed the movies, though he didn’t always understand them fully. Sometimes he found himself watching Dean watch the films instead of watching them himself. He liked to see how invested in them Dean would get, how he would lean forward when the film was tense or throw his head back laughing before a joke was even made just because he knew it was coming. He liked the way that Dean would look to him for confirmation that Cas was enjoying it. He missed the ability to see someone’s soul, but the way Dean would smile at him almost made up for it.

It was nearly a month before he got to experience Dean Winchester completely.

Dean. Dean, who smelled like soap and iron and sweat. Dean, who had crow’s feet when he smiled and freckles on his shoulders, whose green eyes, sparked with amusement and mischief, made him feel safe and dangerous, calm and excited. Dean, whose stubble was rough against his skin and whose hair was silky under his fingers, whose lips were soft and warm. Dean, whose fingers gripped tight enough that his trimmed nails left indents in skin and whose kisses could be biting. Dean, whose skin tasted of salt and whose mouth tasted sweet like cherries, even after he’d just brushed his teeth. Whose panting breath Cas would try to match with his own and whose heartbeat was the perfect lullaby.

Dean, who showed Cas that it was one thing to touch, and another thing entirely to _be_ touched.


End file.
